


The Twelve Crusaders and The Miracle at Darna

by rightinthekokoro



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, elaboration on a canon event, slight headcanon or fanon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 21:02:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3664878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightinthekokoro/pseuds/rightinthekokoro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says on the proverbial tin - how I think the Miracle at Darna happened. There's a bit of headcanon involved but this should otherwise be consistent with Jugdral's lore. Each chapter is basically the Miracle through the perspective of each of the Twelve Crusaders</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Twelve Crusaders and The Miracle at Darna

**Author's Note:**

> The History of the Emblem series of posts by a user named Lhyon on /r/fireemblem basically inspired me to do this, especially the bit about the Miracle at Darna.

It had come down to this. One last fortress where the Loptyrian Empire had its enemies cornered.

Ever since his childhood Baldur could not remember a time when war did not rage across Jugdral. Since he was a boy a resistance army had risen up against the dark tyranny of the Empire, seeking to liberate the land from its evil sorcery. After all, a hegemon that regularly kidnapped children for their own needs and to sate the blood hunger of its ruling house, the House of Galle, could scarcely be described as wise and benevolent. Nearly two decades now and the war had ravaged through the land.

Baldur remembered the day when he was but a boy of around eight when his father rode off to battle the Loptyrian sorcerers, never to return; his only memento was an old, worn broadsword which Baldur carefully used in battle. His allies had once asked him to buy a new sword outright, but he had refused, stating that his sword was his reminder to continue his father's war. Thus the sword had found its way with Baldur, as he glanced at it in despair.

Despair had stricken them, for despite the resistance's valiant efforts, the grim forces of the Loptyrians had thwarted them at every turn. Soldier after soldier perished against nightmarish magic, and even the most stalwart men and women had either died at Loptyrian hands or had decided to surrender to save their lives. All but twelve of the resistance had succumbed to this fate, and these twelve were holed up in a forsaken fortress in the Yied Desert.

Nevertheless, a flash - nay, an ember - of resolve had struck Baldur. He knew that he had but one life, one chance to help bring down the Empire. And even if he surrendered his life along the way, as long as he had done his utmost to defeat the Loptyrians, then he would be at peace...

A pang of hunger struck the young knight. The food stocks of the fortress were dwindling, even if it was but manned by twelve people and their mounts. Baldur had at times entertained the thought of culling his horse to add to their victuals, but each time he thought so his knightly honor had stayed his hand. He certainly was leaner than when they had holed up in the fortress, yet even so the words of his father - "A knight is only as powerful as his mount" - still rang true in his ears.

Sheathing his sword, Baldur then stood up from the table in the mess hall where he sat - it was his turn to cook for his comrades. As he had done so, however, he then heard a cry from outside. "Someone's appeared in the courtyard! Get ready!" At this Baldur assumed the worst and readied his sword, running out to the central yard of the fortress. The sight that greeted him, however, would change his life forever...

A group of twelve people were gathered in the middle of the yard, wearing cloaks around their bodies. The one in the middle, who seemed to be their leader, was a woman who to Baldur appeared to be some kind of ethereal beauty. As his fellows approached the twelve gathered in their midst with various reactions, the ethereal woman remarked, "Children of men! I, Naga, have come to aid you in your darkest hour."

"For I have heard tales of what has been happening in Jugdral. And mine eyes do not deceive me - the mark of corruption has spread through your land. I had wished to act sooner, yet my fellows and I had to deal with the kin of this evil you now face. As we have now laid the Earth Dragons of Archanea to heel, we now offer our assistance to you valorous men and women."

These words had an effect on Baldur. Was she telling the truth, or was this another one of Loptyr's deceptive phantoms? Nevertheless, he approached the twelve in the yard, and as he drew closer he noticed all of them seemed to share the ethereal air of their leader, whose name seemed to be Naga. Their elfin features also stood out to him, particularly their pointed ears unlike that of a regular person's.

Heim, the eldest and the designated leader of the remaining warriors. had also come forward at this time and approached Naga and her cohorts. Stopping a good few feet or so from them, he genuflected, showing his respect. "Lady Naga, we are grateful for your arrival. Say but what you offer, and we will use it to vanquish the enemy." At this Naga replied, "we offer to you the gift of our sacred blood, to form a compact between us and you. With this power you will be able to withstand the insidious attacks of your foes, as well as wield twelve weapons we have blessed with our power." Heim then stood, silently contemplating for a moment as he looked at each of his allies, and as he turned to Baldur all the young knight could do was give a nod of assent. With this, Heim replied, "we gladly accept this gift from my lady. Grant us this power so we may then defeat the evil from our lands." "Very well then," Naga accepted.

"Come forward, all of you," Heim called to his fellows. As Baldur was already with him, he somehow had ended up being first to do the rites needed. Naga motioned for a cup to be brought, and one of the cloaked figures produced it from his robe. The cloaked figure then faced Baldur, looking him in the eyes. The man - Baldur was absolutely sure of it - then produced a knife from his other pocket, and with this cut his index finger, letting it bleed. He let a few drops fall into the goblet he had with him. "Water, if you please," asked the man.

The axeman Neir, having seen the proceedings, then produced a clay jug that then filled from the well, and set it beside Baldur and the mysterious man. Baldur then poured out some water into the goblet, and as he did, the water and blood mixed into some glowing liquid. "Drink," offered the man.

And thus Baldur drank - and as he did his sensations were turned inside out. Power seemed to surge into his body - an upwelling of magical energy erupted through him, and yet in seconds he felt himself again. Upon his right wrist, however, was a mark that unmistakably looked like a cross between a dragon's fang and a broadsword.

The man then somehow transformed the knife into a shining broadsword that resembled the mark on his wrist. "This is Tyrfing, a sword I shall entrust to you, Baldur. It will be your blade that will strike against the foe, as well as your ward from the dark energies of your enemies. Use it well, and it will lead you to victory." Accepting the sword, Baldur bowed to the man, and stepped back, allowing for Neir to then take his turn.

And thus, the Crusader Baldur received his power...


End file.
